With my brother and his wife and youngest daughter staying at our house in Florida we spent our final days in the United States with our friends Sandy and Gary. We left their house with our worldly belongings that would accompany us for the upcoming three and a half years. It had all been packed, stuffed, and crammed into the allowed six pieces of travel packaging. Two suitcases weighing the limit of fifty pounds each, two carryons each within a pound or so of the thirty three pound limit, and our personal items. For Dusty it was her flowered bag that fit nicely under an airplane seat and had traveled with us for over twenty years. It contained all things personal to her plus the oatmeal craisin walnut chocolate chip cookies I had made the day before in our own kitchen. My carryon was the backpack containing my camera, Dusty’s binoculars, one change of clothes, passports, international driving permit, two years of medication, charging cables, international multi-adapter for outlets, and cash. I also carried my Cpap which doesn’t count as luggage, but is one more thing to keep track of. There was also the sixty five pound duffle bag we had shipped ahead to Belfast holding many awkward and superfluous things like shoes, snorkel equipment, evening gowns, and house slippers (Dusty wanted to keep our cabin clean by removing footwear at the door).
We loaded the two hundred pounds of belongings into the rental car to get to Orlando for our flight to London Gatwick en route to Belfast. I dropped Dusty at the terminal with everything but my backpack and drove back to fill up the car and drop it off.
I joined Dusty back at the terminal and we stacked everything together and went inside. After snacking on blackberries and cherry turnovers we had left from Sam’s Club we checked the two large bags at the counter.
There was much concern over making the weight limit as many items large and small had been shuffled between our carriers in the hours before our departure. As the attendant perused our passports I put my bag on the scale and saw 53.2 pounds. Crap. This was going to be a PITA. Just then my bag fell to the side, as it had many times since we had packed it, and rested its handle against the opposite side of the scale wall. My first reaction was to reach out and right the thing. Then I saw the scale now showing the magic number 50.0. Hallelujah for Devine intervention or dumb luck or whatever. Hands off. Tag the bag and move on to Dusty’s bag and at exactly fifty pounds we were suddenly one hundred pounds lighter.
With our remaining carryons and personal items, plus the Cpap, we took the long hike through TSA and to our gate about three hours before departure. After a little hunting we found the Premier Lounge and confirmed that my Capital One card allowed us entry for drinks, food, and comfortable seating.
As boarding time approached we went back to our gate only to find it was no longer our gate. They had made a last minute change and we had to scurry with our Rena inning 100-pounds of stuff to the bee gate only to find boarding well underway. We worried a bit about finding room for our luggage boarding later than we thought. Fortunately we had premium seating and took the seldom experienced Those Guys line and were soon in la the seats with legroom and extra storage space. Happy day.
We flew. We are. We drank. We got there. The flying is the part of travel I was so looking forward to not having to do again for three and a half years.
Gatwick airport. We gathered our stuff and got ready to leave the plane. Departing from the front for a change. I had the 33-pound duffel bag plus my backpack and Cpap. Dusty had her rolling carryon bag plus her flowered bag from under the seat. As we worked our way towards customs she said she was stiff from sitting and the bag was extra heavy. I decided I could pull the roller in one hand and carry the duffel in the other. I could, but I had to stop and switch hands every minute or so.
We finally got into line for showing our passports and at this point Dusty took back the roller. Quickly through passport control we turned left and there was an escalator with everyone from our flight going up to baggage claim. I noticed a “lift” to one side and considered the elevator for a moment. Out of habit and moving with the crowd I simply moved forward to the escalator to go get our big bags.
About ten seconds later, as I was about ten steps up the ride to the top I heard Dusty’s cry from behind “Oh No!” as she fell backwards on the escalator.
After much hustle and bustle from the airport staff she was taken to a private room for examination and treatment nearby while I collected our two monster suitcases and put everything together on a luggage trolley provided by one of the staff. When she came out of the room with her gauze wrapped right elbow and a safety pin holding closed the rip in her dress I was finally able to breathe.
After declining a visit to a hospital for X-rays we were told to keep the cold pack on the elbow and we, with our tower of luggage, were escorted to the tram to link up with our flight to Belfast. With the carefully laden trolley in hand and my backpack never leaving the space between my shoulders we gingerly made our way on and off the tram to the north terminal only to find we could not check in and relieve ourselves of the checked luggage until three hours before the flight and that was three hours hence. Hence we had to find a way to pass that time at the Gatwick Airport while continuing to monitor Dusty, find some coffee, and consider my culpability in the injuries sustained. Shoulda slowed down. Shoulda taken the lift. Shoulda gone behind on the escalator. Writing this five days later I still hear her crying out as she fell.
Anyway, we finally checked our big bags. I carried everything else the rest of the way to the plane. Except for the two flights of stairs down to the tarmac where an Irish woman with a five year old girl offered to take the duffle bag. I said I didn’t want her to hurt herself to which she replied, “I’m a vet and lift baby cows for a living” or something to that effect. I smiled and thanked her as she helped the poor Americans. On board we shared a few homemade cookies with her and her daughter as thanks.
Finally in Belfast we managed to squeeze everything into one taxi to the Titanic Hotel. While in line to check in Laura Lee heard us mention the Odyssey voyage and asked if we had heard of the delay in the launch. She had arrived that same morning from San Diego and learned that a grey water tank (for shower and sink water vs black water from toilets) had failed inspection and they would need to cut a hole in the side of the ship to replace it. We would not sail in two days. We would board the ship in seven days and launch soon after.
Disappointing but not devastating. At least we were not in a London hospital or worse.
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